


The Cow Jumped Over the Moon

by snowpuppies



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: AU, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-23
Updated: 2011-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-18 13:02:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowpuppies/pseuds/snowpuppies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two lost girls find their way back home. Set during/after BtVS 5.19 - Tough Love, and Ats 2.19 - Belonging</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cow Jumped Over the Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [staringiscaring](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=staringiscaring).



> A/N: for femslash_minis, written for staringiscaring. Hope it suits!  
> A/N2: for tamingthemuse Prompt #222 - methodical thinking
> 
> Beta'd by Gabrielle the wonderflonious. Mistakes are mine. Thanks to G for the great title idea!

**The Cow Jumped Over the Moon**   
1

  
She frowns at her untidy scrawl along the cave wall.

Okay.

Okay. She just has to think. The equation isn't quite right. Did she allow for the temporal distortions to the space-time continuum inherent in inter-dimensional travel? Or maybe it was a matter of constants—she'd attempted to extrapolate the changes in gravity due to Pylea's three suns, but she could be off. She'd only calculated to twenty-six decimal places; perhaps she needed more?

She bites her lip, rubbing furiously at her latest theory with the hem of her shirt—No, no, no, that's not right—as she reviews what she remembers.

According to her work on—

  
"Eeep!" she yelps as something crashes behind her. Scrambling away, she hunches against the wall, peering in the direction of the noise.

There's something in her cave.

It groans.

She trembles—not a cow, not a cow, not a cow—as the thing moves.

"Ow."

It sits up.

It looks like…a girl.

A girl? Can't be a girl. There are no girls here. Just cows—no, not a cow, a girl. Another girl, just like her. Just a girl. Can monsters be girls?

"H—Hello?"

The girl grimaces, squinting into the darkness of the cave.

She cranes her neck, trying to get a better look.

"I think I hit my head."

She thinks the girl is talking to her— _talking!_ to her!—and she thinks she should answer, but then what would she say? And it could be a hallucination, although her imagination tends towards the tall, dark and handsome…and well, _male_ , but there's a first time for everything, and she would hate to make a fool of herself except there's no one else around to be a fool for, unless the girl's real, in which case she really should probably try to be polite and answer.

"Um. Hi?" She rises ever so slightly from her crouch, one hand balancing her weight as she leans forward.

"Oh," the girl responds. "Uhm, where am I?"

No. No, no, no. The three suns burn into her retinas. Red eyes bore into hers, hissing as her body writhes in pain— _stupid cow_ —and she can't breathe. Can't breathe, can't think—can't _think_ , need to think—and she's stuck, stuck, stuck, and the numbers won't add up and she can't figure it all out and someone's grabbing her—No, no, nonono—

"NO!" Someone's yelling and someone's shushing, something smells good and hands are warm—good, warm hands are touching, soft touches, not hurting and she looks up, and blue eyes smile.

"Hey. I'm Tara."

"Fred," she answers.

"Hi, Fred. Are you okay?"

Soft fingers are running through her hair; it may be the best hallucination ever.

"This is Pylea." Okay, so she had a little panic attack and freaked out some, first, but when someone asks you a question, you really should answer. It's only polite.

"Pylea?" The girl—Tara, she reminds herself, and isn't that a wonderful name?—furrows her brow questioningly.

She nods. "It's an alternate dimension." She pulls away, standing from her crouch and striding over to her nearest work. "I've been trying to work it all out…," she trails off, reading over the figures. Oh! That's it! She forgot to account for—

"Wait. How did I get here?"

She rubs at her mistake, scribbling over the mess. "You fell."

"I…that doesn't make sense. I…I was…at the fair. Waiting for Willow, and… _Glory_!"

"Huh?" She looks up at Tara—blue eyes gone wide in panic—who's pacing the floor.

"I think she...she…did something."

She recognizes the look on Tara's face; she imagines she's worn it a time or two.

"I'm sorry."

  
***

  
"So you're trying to go home?" Tara asks, shivering as she curls up in one of Fred's skins.

"I'm trying to open a portal." She scratches her head—if only she could think!—and starts over at the beginning.

"Is there anything I can do? I—I'm not good at math. Or science, really, but I could…get something to eat?" Standing, Tara heads toward the mouth of the cave.

She wants to jump out of her skin.

She beats Tara to the hole in the rock, barring the way with her body.

"Y—you don't wanna go out there. Don't wanna be a cow. No." She's trembling. Trembling. A warm hand squeezes her shoulder.

"I don't?"

"No."

Tara nods, looking a little puzzled, but doesn't seem likely to venture outside now.

She relaxes a bit. "If you're hungry…," she trails off, eyes darting to the corner where she keeps her supplies, body following automatically. "I've got…" She pulls out a scrap of cloth and unwraps it, offering the contents to Tara. "It's not very good—doesn't taste a thing like a taco, but if you pretend, it kinda tastes like refried beans, a little burned, maybe, but not too bad."

Tara frowns, her soft hands coming out to clasp Fred's own.

She didn't realize she'd been shaking.

"Are you okay?"

"I…I…No."

Tara takes the offered bark and re-wraps it before putting it away. She takes Fred's hands in her own and pulls her over to the pallet, settling them both—Fred pulled up close to her side—before speaking. "Tell me about it?"

"They're demons."

"Demons?"

"Out there. They're green. And they've got these red eyes, and horns and they think I'm a cow—a cow!—and they…they—" she falters, tears leaking down her cheeks a she remembers the pain, the feeling of her skin turning inside-out, boiling alive, wishing she would just die already, and Tara's arm is around her shoulder and she smells like apples and Oh! how she wishes she had some apples—green ones, yellow ones, big, shiny, red ones—but she doesn't. Doesn't have anything but crumbly bark and a cave full of flawed equations, but lips press against her forehead and she remembers Tara, and it's okay, she's not alone anymore, and they may be stuck, but she's not alone, and she's not crazy. Not crazy. And oh, was she saying something?

"—saying something?"

"You were telling me about the demons—but you don't have to if you don't want. I—I don't need to know. You're…s—scared, and that's okay, but we're safe here, and you don't have to worry."

"They hurt me. They made me wear a collar. Made me a cow. Made me scrub and clean and chop and fetch and I'm not nearly as pretty as Cinderella, and—are you supposed to be my Prince Charming?"

Tara grins, her body shaking with a silent chuckle. "I—I don't think so. I've never been anyone's Prince anything."

"Oh. Well, I guess not." She sighs, leaning into Tara's warmth.

"You're exhausted, aren't you?"

She yawns—Huh. She is tired, now she thinks about it—and nods. "Yeah."

"Why don't you take a nap—you need some sleep—and then we can figure everything out in the morning."

She follows Tara's hands as she's shifted horizontally, snuggling into the bed of firs she'd collected for herself over the months. As sleep tugs at her eyelids, she feels the warmth of Tara's body drawing away and she reaches out, catches Tara's wrist with her cool fingers.

"Tara?"

"Fred?"

"Stay?"

"I…Okay."

She sighs as the warmth curls around her again. It's strange, this fantasy always involved someone tall and strong, with hard muscles and long, muscular arms, and Tara's all soft and squishy. But really, she thinks as slumber pulls at her consciousness, squishy really is pretty nice.

  
***

  
She takes a deep breath before she begins, reciting the words she's said a million—and one, at least—times before, concentrating on the cadence and pitch, trying to pronounce the foreign Pylean tongue correctly as she prays—oh, please work—for this time to be the one.

She's come to the hard part—the placement of the rip in the wall between the dimensions—when a hand grabs her wrist.

She falters, attention drawn to Tara, who's looking at her with the strangest expression.

"Somethin' on my face?"

"No." Tara shakes her head, blinking like someone's just turned the lights on in a dark room. "I just…something's off. I can…" she pauses, nose wrinkled in concentration, "…feel it, somehow."

"Oh!" She turns to her work again, focusing on that particular section—there were some difficulties in sorting the cross-dimensional dynamics, and the margin of error might be too high.

Tara's hands pull her away.

"No. Just…start over. I'm gonna…see…" Tara trails off, looking very distracted as she slips to the floor, her legs crossed Indian-style, and begins to breathe very deeply.

"Oh—kay," she answers, watching a moment as Tara does nothing but breathe, then shrugs and turns back to the wall.

Sighing, she begins again.

" _Krv Drpglr pwlz chkwrt…_ " she pauses, ever so slightly, as a hand grabs her own. She keeps chanting as Tara's fingers link with hers, warm and surprisingly strong. She continues, her voice seeming to echo in the darkness, as something hot sparks across her palm and zings through her body. Her heart is pounding in her throat as she grits the words out, and for a moment, it feels as if someone else is speaking, like she's just an amplifier for something _other_ , and Tara's hand is squeezing, squeezing, and she's squeezing back, eyes shut against the ache in her throat as the words tumble forth—" _strplmt dwghzn prqlrzn lffrmtplzt!_ "2

She slumps to the ground, nearly landing in Tara's lap, as a loud crack sounds in the space. The ground trembles; they scramble away, a heap of limbs and hair and wide-eyes, as a portal opens.

"Oh, my…" Her breath catches in her chest. She never really thought…never really…

She's overcome. All this time she thought it was a dream. A silly, wishful-thinking dream, and now it's here and there's the world! A street. Oh! And cars! And somewhere out there is a bank and a library and a taco stand, and she wants to cry and scream and just explode or something, but she can't—she's just too full of feelings, of words—she just—

"Fred."

"Huh?"

"You're rambling."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I do that when I get nervous." She turns back towards the portal. "Do you think I should…?" She gestures towards the gaping hole in the dimension.

Tara smiles. She leans forward, one hand curling in the strands of hair along the nape of Fred's neck as soft lips brush against Fred's mouth.

She sighs.

"I think it's past time, Winifred."

She beams. "Me, too." She turns and strides towards her exit, her _entrance_ , pausing just before crossing the threshold to call over her shoulder, "You com—" She blinks. Tara's gone. "—in'?"

She wonders if she needs to go back, but she tumbles forward…

…and falls onto the sidewalk.

One bright sun shines at her from the sky.

  
***

  
It takes a week for her to end up in a mental hospital.

  
And seventeen months to get out again.

  
But it's all good. She knows now that she's not a cow, and in the real world, demons and portals and alternate dimensions don't exist—even though they do—and she's re-applying to grad school, swearing this time she'll take it slow on the weed, but something…or rather some _one_ , is nagging her.

  
***

  
Her Google skills may be rusty, but she finds the one she's looking for, eventually. She's not even that far—just over in Sunnydale. So over a weekend between midterms and finals, Fred packs a bag and heads out of town.

She follows the directions she printed out until she pulls in the driveway at 1630 Revello Drive.

When she knocks on the door, the face that answers isn't familiar.

"Can I help you?" The girl in the entryway is about Tara's age, blonde as well, but slimmer, smaller, and more…athletic-looking.

"Uhm…I might have the wrong place, but…I'm looking for Tara?"

The girl's face falls. "She…" The girl sighs, looking down and closing her eyes for a moment before raising her head to meet Fred's eyes again. "She passed away, a few months ago."

"Oh." Oh! How horrible. She covers her mouth with her hand, but the babble spills out anyways. "I'm so sorry. I didn't…I didn't know. I just…well, something happened, a while back, and I wanted to know if she remembered, and…well, it was a silly idea, anyways."

She blushes, awkwardly shifting on the front porch and inching away towards the car.

"You said you knew her?"

"She…She saved my life."

The girl's eyes soften as she slumps against the door frame. "I'm not surprised." The girl straightens and steps forward to extend her hand. "I'm Buffy."

The girl's— _Buffy's_ —hand is small, but strong.

"You want to come in?"

She smiles as Buffy gives her hand a squeeze then releases her to push the door open.

"Yeah, I…I'd love to."

  
***

  
A bunch of white lilies flutters in the evening breeze.

She strokes the petals, marveling at their softness; she's reminded of the barest press of lips, comfort and hope in one of the darkest times of her life.

Solemnly, she adds a spray of rosemary3 and a single stalk of white bellflower4.

Her fingers trace the letters—rough scratches of sand and stone against the stark cool of marble, spelling a name that's been with her through nightmares and therapy and her deepest, fondest dreams—as she whispers goodbye to a girl she never really met.

She brushes a kiss against the stone.

Sighing, she rises to her feet, brushing the dirt from her jeans.

  
The wind ruffles her hair as she leaves the cemetery.

 _FIN_.

  
 **Footnotes:**  
1 The title is from the English nursery rhyme, [Hey Diddle Diddle](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hey_Diddle_Diddle), as suggested by the aforementioned wonderful Gabrielle.  
2 The entire line of Pylean in the fic is copied directly from the episode Belonging, and was taken from the [SCRSQWRN](http://buffy.wikia.com/wiki/SCRSQWRN) entry on the Buffy Wiki.  
3 Rosemary means "remembrance". Taken from the [Language of Flowers](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Language_of_flowers) Wiki article.  
4 Bellflowers, also known as Campanula, mean "gratitude". Also taken from the above link.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally Archived [here](http://snowpuppies.dreamwidth.org/265449.html).


End file.
